


Fool's Paradise

by Dudeidcletmein



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Small Town, Bedtime Stories, Blood and Gore, Crying, Crying Tom, Demon Tord, Fucked Up, Gore, Kid Tom, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Teenage Tom Riddle, Teenagers, Winter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:40:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26378191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dudeidcletmein/pseuds/Dudeidcletmein
Summary: Welcome alone traveler, to our train tracks!They can lead you to your greatest desires. Take you far away to where anything is possible. All your wishes can come true just by the shake of a hand! In an infinite world of possibilities, this is where your dreams become reality!...Oh no. You hear them don't you? You see them don't you? You see HIM don't you?You shouldn't have come, for it is already too late. You have sealed your faith to the devil himself. Trapped in a loop of endless nightmares.They're screaming. Wailing. Crying. Begging. But the warnings are silent to deaf ears.You have made a grave mistake.For you are not welcomed here, alone traveler.
Relationships: Tom/Tord (Eddsworld)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 24





	1. An Old Folktale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is also published on my wattpad account Treetec!

Tom didn't know much about his grandfather other then he was a good person. At least that's what his mom told him.

Tom remembered she would tell him stories about his grand-paps, but there was one, in particular, she told more often. She had mentioned it was an old Folktale, one that had been passed down from generations.

Not that Tom understood what that meant.

He remembered those nights when the wind whistled with unspoken promises. Where the frozen air scratched at the windows, leaving beautiful frosted patterns. And the snowflakes danced with grace.

He'd be tucked in bed tightly, snuggled with his little tommie bear. Tom remembered the crackle of a fire in the room over. It was where warmth was common and a known safe place to be. At least it felt safe. The faint noise of a fire in the distance had always calmed him.

Whenever there was a fire going Tom never felt lonely. How could he when it had so much to say. So many ways to move. It always saddened him when the fire died. He wished he could've heard more from it. Feel its warmth hug him one last time.

It was Tom's favorited place other than the forest. How could it not be when it held so many good memories? Memories of gingerbread cookies and torn out presents on Christmas night. The same place he tried dancing with the fire. And where you could relax and have a hot cup of cocoa. Mom had always made her hot cocoas with a heart in it. Tom loved those the most.

But the best nights are when the raging storm sets in. Being all snuggled up by a fire with a pillow between his legs.

He'd squeeze the daylights out of the soft cushion while keeping a trained eye on the battlefield. Snow was always more soothing when it was aggressive. Knowing he was safe from the bitter cold within his home.

But during those nights, more often than not, Mom would recall a story. A story about the train tracks in the distance.

Where lost hopeless souls found themselves following the call of the train horn. She said Grand-paps was one of the unlucky ones. How he was at an all-time low in his life. And that one day, grandpa found himself at the doorstep of the devil.

Tom had cut in one time, telling her how he thought this was about a train. Not someone's doorstep.

Ah, kids. Tom hadn't understood the metaphor, and he wouldn't for a long time to come.

His mom let out a soft sigh as she rustled his hair. He laughed and tussled with her arm before she retreated it back to her lap. "Don't interrupt storytime," She had told him softly. "Ask questions later."

Taking in a calm breath, she continued, "When these lost souls would find the hidden train tracks... They would be promised a grand fortune. _Paradise_ is what they would call it."

"Then what happened?" Tom asked excitedly. He knew what happened next in the story. He just felt the need to ask anyway.

"Well.." She started. "After that night, all their greatest wishes came true." She grinned at the awe-struck look her son gave her.

"Like what?" He asked a bit too eagerly.

His mother let out a small giggle before speaking again. "They would get to go anywhere they wished! Like Paris or Hawaii. Or maybe even to magical places like Candy Land! Where you could eat all the sweets you wanted, even past your bedtime!"

"Woahhh! What else could they do?" Tom's eyes twinkled with the thought of eating all the candy he wanted. Even past his bedtime!

"They could become rich and famous! Have amazing super powers like super speed. They could even fly! And sometimes, they would give things to others... But the thing is, they would have a debt."

Her look had softened in a sad smile. Her expression always became upsetting when she got to this part.

Tom on the other hand covered his face in his sheets. This part of the story always scared him.

"After all, _everything good comes with a price."_ She took a pause to build tension. Tom would smile at that if it didn't scare him so much. His mother was always so good at telling stories. She always knew how to tell them. She was good at making people feel emotions from her story, whether it be happiness, anger or even sadness. In this case, it was fear.

"After about a week, the person would start acting... _strange."_

"S-strange how?" He whispered under his blanket. Tom knew the answer to this too, didn't mean it didn't scare him every time.

She kept talking though, not hearing Tom's question. "After the thrill of it all, they would act paranoid like _someone_ was following them. _Like everyone was after them._ They would speak nonsense, literally and figuratively."

Tom didn't know what 'literally' or 'figuratively' meant, but he didn't stop his mother.

"Sometimes they would speak in a language no one has ever heard. And other times they wouldn't make sense cause what they were saying was absolute nonsense. No one ever listened to them, and I guess that's why they run away. Like they disappear out of thin air. No one knows what happened to them."

His mother's expression changed in a flash. She turned to him with a knowing grin. Tom pushed himself further into the bed in an attempt to get away from his mother. She crept in close to his ears and whispered, "And they were never to be seen again." Her voice made a chill run up Tom's spine.

Suddenly, His mom threw the blanket off Tom and attacked him with fierce tickles. He gasped and tried to get the sheets back. He kicked at her hands in an attempt to defend himself from the attack. His giggles filled the room even after she stopped tickling him.

He grabbed the blanket back from her, smiling ear to ear like a goof.

His mother huffed with a smile of her own. "Good night Tom," she said softly.

"Mommy wait!" Tom had bellowed out before his mother could lift herself off the bed.

She turned to him with a hushed, "Hm?"

Tom twiddled with his thumbs over his chest. He stared down at his hands with a pout. "You said I could ask questions after storytime."

She sighed and sat back down fully. Her eyes now focused on Tom once more.

"What is it you wanted to ask?"

Tom had hummed like he was thinking. He knew what he wanted to say, he just hasn't asked it before. Tom was the kind of kid who would ask the same question multiple times. Not cause he wanted to be annoying. But because he found the answer interesting sometimes.

"Do you know what happened to them..? The people who disappeared."

His mom stared at him with an unreadable expression. Tom had looked at her confused, he hadn't seen that look on his mother before.

She had sighed and rustled his hair. "No clue." She pecked him on the forehead before getting up from the bed. Tom's skin felt warm where she had kissed him. He smiled as a calm feeling rested in his stomach. Mom's kisses were always something to cherish.

"Sweet dreams dear." Tom couldn't see her face, as her back was already turned to him. But her voice was calm and gentle, as it always was.

"You too mom!" He yelled out with more passion.

When his mother had completely exited the room, he turned to his lamp. He had wondered about the true ending of the story. That couldn't be it, could it? It was the only story of hers that didn't have a happy ending. Tom's eyebrows furrowed at that.

His finger graced the chain that dangled from the lamp ever so lightly. He wrapped his hand around it before something startled him out of his skin. Something had tapped on his window.

Tom, not expecting the noise, pulled the chain with surprise. The room was engulfed with darkness as Tom shot his head to the source of the sound.

He starred at the window with wide, white eyes. A silhouette of a tall figure stood in the middle of Tom's window. The dark shadow stood there unmoving, as the snowflakes seemed to pass through it effortlessly. It's Red, glowing eyes, stared blankly through the window. And the horns on top of its head looked threateningly sharp.

Tom froze in place, his limbs starting to shake as he held onto the chain tighter.

The red eyes snapped to Tom's direction in a flash. Glowing more once they met with Tom's petrified white orbs.

Tom let out a quick and quiet gasp, almost a squeak. He threw his hand up to his mouth in fear the creature might hear him. Tears prickling at the corner of his agape sockets.

The way the shadow was looking at him didn't fit well in Tom's stomach.

The creature stood still for the longest time. Seeming so unaffected by the raging snowstorm outside. As if it were a ghost.

A long boney finger went up to the glass then pausing. Tom starred at the hand expectantly but terrified. It looked so horrifically skinny and long. No person had a hand like that.

Tom was shaking violently, his breaths rapid and uneven. Static filled his mind as he watched the scene play out. He was eternally screaming at himself to move! But his limbs wouldn't budge. All he could do was hiccup air in his lungs while balling his eyes out. He clenched his bed frame for support, feeling like the world was falling beneath his feet.

_He felt helpless._

Then, it tapped 3 times on the glass. Each time agonizingly slow and loud. The shadow rested it's palm on the window, slowly sliding it down the window, leaving claw marks and making Tom's ears cringe. Tom shot his eyes back to the monster's red eyes when they flashed once again.

He Cried even more as silent choked sobs left his throat. He wanted to _scream_. He wanted to run to his mom and ball his eyes out. But he was frozen in place. Still as a statue, while more tears built up in his eyes.

Only when the creature started to lift his window was when Tom took action.

He pulled the chain attached to the lamp quickly, almost making it fall off the nightstand.

His eyes winced at the new brightness. But non the less he stared straight ahead, tears still flowing down his puffy red cheeks.

He starred in awe as he was met with the snow thumping on his window. The whistle of the wind now clear as his window was slightly cracked open. A tree branch tapped his window ever so often as the violent wind pushed it closer to the glass. Tom shivered as the air breezed pass his frame. He got up with weak noodle legs.

His feet patted the floor lightly as he clenched his pyjama shirt tightly. He made his way to the window slowly. Tom stood a foot away from it, starring at it with wary eyes.

He crossed his arms and rubbed either side of them. It was a poor attempt to warm himself up, as the shiver that shot through him wasn't completely caused by the wind.

5 scratches could be seen on the right side of the window. the claw mark sliding all the way down to the bottom of the glass. Tom's breathing hitched at the sight.

He walked to the window slowly. When he got close enough he slammed it shut and locked it as quickly as possible. Tom ran to his bed and dived into his sheets, wrapping them around himself like a cocoon.

He starred at the window with only his eyes peeking out the blanket. His skin was scattered with goosebumps from the previous event.

The branch tapped his window every few seconds, the blizzard not dying down for a second.

Tom was sleeping with his light on tonight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I decided to write this instead of updating chapter 8 for "Some Secrets Are Better Off Hidden". But I'm working on that! Kinda.
> 
> Anyway this was an idea I've had for a very long time and I can't wait to jump into it more. This story is heavily inspired by a song I love!
> 
> Anyway have a nice day!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was a murmur in the background. But Tom wasn't paying attention. He was too focused on what might happen next.

The sun sprinkled the leaves with a beautiful brightness. Tom watched as the yellow light peeked through the branches. It shined through the window, the light resting on top of his desk and through his half-lidded eyes. He ignored how the radiant beams painted his notebook and pencil. Somewhat of a reminder of what he should be doing.

Tom stared forward, eyeing the butterfly fluttering from leaf to leaf.  
It's beautiful yellow wings flapping against the glowing sun, and the two blended in together nicely.

It was rare to see a butterfly this late in the season. Most of the leaves were already on the ground. But the colourful leaves that stayed on the tree were still beautiful.

Tom could feel himself dozing off to the aesthetic scenery. His head bobbing against his propped up palm. Tom's vision had started to fade to black, his eyelids felt heavy as he observed the dancing insect.

When he had just begun to slip into unconsciousness, he heard a chirp.

Tom's eyes widened and stared blankly at the window. When he heard the same noise, he glided his eyes to a bird resting its feet on a tree branch.

Tom split his vision from the bird to the butterfly, who was still oblivious to the potential danger. His head was stiff in his palm but his eyes were travelling all over the place. Not that anyone would've noticed.

The bird had turned its head and gone silent. Viewing her prey with a glint in those black orbs. She jumped along the branch to get closer to the butterfly. At this point, the butterfly had gone stock-still. Probably sensing the bird nearby.

There was a murmur in the background. But Tom wasn't paying attention. He was too focused on what might happen next.

For a moment everything was still. Neither the bird nor insect had made a move. Tom's eyes were moving frantically between the two creatures. Then suddenly, the bird leapt from the branch and glided to the leaf the butterfly was resting on. The insect had tried to fly away but the bird was too quick.

The second that beak closed around the butterfly the sky grew dark. The sun had started to hide behind the clouds passing in front of it.

The bluebird flew higher into the tree to land beside a nest. Tom starred as a baby bird took the insect from his mother. The sun had completely disappeared behind the clouds the moment the butterfly was out of sight.

Tom was at a loss for words; his brain trying to make sense of what just happened.

"Tom!"

Tom flinched, lifting his head from his palm and turning his attention forward. His arms had gone slack on top of the wooden surface. He watched his teacher, not missing the fierce twitch in her left eye.

"Quit daydreaming and read the entry to page 136." Mrs. Moran sighed as she pinched the bridge of her nose.

The class erupted in hushed giggles and taunting whispers. Tom didn't pay any mind to what they were discussing as he tried to find his book. He looked at his desk, in his desk, under, and around, but that familiar textbook was nowhere in sight.

He turned to his teacher with an unsure smile, already knowing she'd get the memo from the simple action. She rolled her eyes as she put on her reading glasses and pointed to the door.

"Look for it in your locker and don't forget the hall pass."

"Ah, thank you miss!" Tom stood from his seat and hurriedly grabbed the hall pass. He had almost knocked down Mrs. Moran's clock. But she had caught it before it could even think of falling.

It had always creeped him out how fast her reflexes were. Tom, nor the class, had never been able to pull off a prank on her. Tom had tried the classic chalk eraser in between the door trick. She had caught it and Tom could never forget the murderess intent that flashed through her eyes.

She had placed the clock right back in its place. Tom had mumbled a small 'sorry', as he continued his way to exit the classroom.

"Oh, and Tom."

Tom stilled at the door. His hand rested on the door frame, as he turned back to his teacher.

She was smiling kindly at him, her head tilted and eyes closed. Tom gulped.

"While you're at it, get a late slip."

Tom's jaw dropped as he stared at his teacher for any hint that she was joking. When she opened her eyes to show that cruel gaze only she could pull off, he knew there was no arguing with her.

"Yes ma'am..." Tom mumbled.

He spun on his heels and walked towards his assigned locker.

God, why does she have to hate him so much? She knew that if certain kids had forgotten their things she would let it slide. It seemed Mrs. Moran had favoured picking on him specifically.

Now Tom can understand that he had tried to pull off pranks on her in the past. But the thing is it wasn't always him! He just always gets in trouble even if he had no part to play in it.

One of the boys in his class had caught onto this pattern. He had cheated off of Tom during a test and had told the teacher that Tom had been stealing his answers. Thank god Tom didn't fail because apparently, Mrs. Moran knew he was one of the smartest kids in her class.

But it wasn't too long until the rest of the class realized this too. Tom had become their excuse for everything bad that had happened. Someone tried to pull a prank on the teacher? Must be Tom. Someone's crying? Tom probably made them cry. Someone stole the apple from the teacher's desk? Pfft, obviously it was Tom! Goddammit if I didn't just drive him _insane._

It was starting to get really old. He hates his class for using him as an excuse for the things they did.

It didn't take long until the little rumour of Tom's behaviour spread to his teachers. Even the teachers he actually respected and never disturbed the class in front of, even they treated him differently!

But there was this one teacher who treated Tom like an actual student. He never fell victim to the rumours.

Tom recalls this one time his teacher called him into the classroom. He said there was something he needed to discuss with Tom. Unsurprisingly it was about the rumours.

Tom had tried to explain himself, saying how it got completely out of proportion and the worse he's ever done was pull pranks on certain teachers and cause some noise.

But his English teacher had stopped him before he could say anymore. He looked Tom in the eye with a sincere smile on his face.

"Tom, you don't have to explain anything to me. I know well enough to not make an opinion about someone until I've met the person myself. You're not a bad kid Tom. You have a troubled mind but-" His teacher pointed to his chest. "A good heart."

To this day, Mr. Spicer was his favourite teacher.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Tom had reached his locker already in a bad mood. The fact that the lock decided it'd be better off shut didn't help with his frustration. Tom forcefully rammed the lock in his grip.

A student passed by him with a raised brow, and even then Tom didn't cut his temper tantrum short. Not really aware he was making a fool of himself in front of a stranger. When the kid turned the corner Tom gave the lock one more shove before trying it out again.

Tom grunted when the lock popped open. He opened his locker and rummaged through his stuff. Tom open his bag and cringed when his camera fell out. He bent down to pick it up, propping his elbows on his knees as he stayed down to examine the camera. He held it up to his face and turned it around. He stood up again when he was sure everything was intact.

He looked for the textbook in his bag before putting the camera back. He reached up to his locker, moving his hand around in hopes he'd feel a hardcover book. When all his efforts were proven useless, he sighed and slammed his locker with frustration. Not only is he going to have to get a late slip, but he's also going to return to class empty-handed.

He groaned as he made his way to the principal's office. The lady at the front desk said the principal was too busy to talk at the moment. So she just handed Tom the late slip and sent him on his way.

He entered the classroom already knowing what Mrs. Moran was going to say.

"Where's your textbook?" She had said without moving her eyes from the papers in front of her. The fact she didn't need to look up to know Tom didn't have the damn thing spoke wonders about her. He swore that woman was a witch.

Tom could see his written test with a bunch of checkmarks littering the paper. It was odd being the best in her class yet her proclaimed "worst student".

He sighed through his nose. "Couldn't find it." He plainly replied.

Snickers could be heard around the room as he walked back to his seat. Tom didn't even spare them an eye roll, as he plopped down in his seat.

He turned his gaze to the window with slight curiosity. He wondered how the birds were doing. Tom had seen them grow at the beginning of the year. He's sure they were to leave the nest very soon.

But Tom was more than surprised when he didn't find the nest. Little pieces of hay and stick were left on a branch. The same branch the nest used to be perched on.

Tom furrowed his eyebrows as he squinted at the peculiar sight. Where were they?

A tap on his arm snapped Tom out of his thoughts. He looked to the girl who sat beside him with a bewildered expression (he wasn't expecting anyone to interrupt his little daydream). It caused her to raise both eyebrows, but she did not comment on it.

Tom returned his facial expression to a neutral one. He starred at her patiently, ignoring the semi-awkward moment they just had.

She retreated the pencil she had tapped him with, opening her mouth while doing so.

"You've been losing a lot more things lately. Is something troubling you?" She asked worriedly.

Tom made a noise between a sigh and a laugh. "Nah, it's not a rare occurrence for me to lose things. Happened way more when I was younger. But there's no need to worry, my stuff always shows up eventually."

The thing is Tom doesn't even bother keeping track of things anymore. When he was younger things would disappear more often than not. Even when he was certain he had just placed it down beside him. But the moment he turns his back, the object seemed to have disappeared into thin air. Sometimes it would take hours other times days, or months before he found it again. And it was either where he last left it, or somewhere completely different. Mom had told him he should keep track of his stuff, maybe even write it in a notebook. But in the end, it never helped. It's like they had a mind of their own.

Tom blinked when he realized he was daydreaming again. The girl in front of him gave an annoyed look. What was her name again? Ella? Ema?

"Uhmm... Sorry, what did you say again?" Tom awkwardly laughed as he rubbed the back of his neck.

She sighed and rolled her eyes, turning her body forward as she stared straight ahead. "I said: It wasn't the book I was worried about." She huffed.

Tom made the syllable 'o' with his mouth. "Oh... sorry Ema."

"It's Emily."

"Right." Tom cleared his throat as he shifted his head back to the window.

 _'Why do I feel like she hates me?'_ Tom mentally groaned.

Emily was nice by default, he knew that for a fact. Ironic seeing as he didn't even remember her name. But nice people always have this subtle way of saying they hate you. Whether it be little jesters or comments. It was always easy to realize when someone didn't enjoy your presence.

Tom hummed as he leaned his head on the glass. He starred at the grey sky through the remaining tree leaves. It was probably going to rain soon, maybe even snow.

For some reason, Tom could not explain, he felt the sudden urge to look down. His eyes had already done the action before his brain could think about it. And the sight had him frozen in his seat.

His ears started to ring, everything in the background a mere buzz.

There, on the grass, laid the 3 baby birds and their mother. They were ripped open from neck to stomach. Their eyes widen and bloodshot as they stared in horror at nothing in particular. Their indintestines and other organs had fallen out of the large gashes. Dried blood painted the grass and the remaining feathers on the poor creatures.

Tom felt his hand twitch towards his mouth.

_**He wanted to vomit.** _

Tom had only realized he wasn't breathing when he started feeling light-headed. He wanted to look away, he really did. But no matter how much he tried, his eyes were always glued to the gory display. He tried taking in calm, and steady breaths. But his lungs would just not allow anything to pass through. He was silently choking as a vile liquid bubbled at the bottom of his throat. His eyes pricked with teardrops, and only then did he start to gasp for air.

His classmates were looking at him. They knew something was off _they had to know._ Tom ripped his head from the window with a sharp gasp. He stared down at his shaking fists atop the desk. Sweat and tears trickled down his face, landing on his clenched hands and notebook. Tom swallowed hard, trying his best not to draw any more attention than he already has.

 _'J_ _ust_ _breathe. Breathe Tom. In. Out._ _'_

His breathing became more tamed after a while. He screwed his eyes shut before finally taking the courage to look up.

No one was looking at him. No one had realized what was going on. Tom's ears finally synced into what was really transpiring. Quiet chatter could be heard amongst his classmates. Some of them were doing their work while others messed around.

 _No one noticed him_. Tom let out a heavy sigh. Sliding his moist palm through his hair and tugging lightly to calm himself.

Everything was ok. _He was_ _ok_ _._

Tom flinched when the bell rang, signalling the school day was over. But Tom made no move to get up. He sat there with his head lowered, listening to the shuffling of chairs as if they were far away. A whisper.

When the room grew silent, Tom's thoughts went wild. But at the same time too fast to make sense of it all. It felt as though he was in an empty field. But it was wrong, so, so wrong. It was too quiet. Something wasn't right.

He felt a heavy presence loom over him. Tom shakily lifted his head to find Mrs. Moran glancing at him with crossed arms. Tom didn't speak, only dropping his head to stare blankly at his fists.

"You're going to have to work harder. There's a history test coming up soon after all."

Tom wasn't listening.

His teacher sighed.

"Look, Tom..." She paused. It felt as though she wanted to say something important. But whatever it was, it was quickly thrown down the drain. "You need to find that textbook before the school fines you."

Tom still hasn't responded. It's not that he wasn't talking to her cause he hates her, he just couldn't focus on her right now. He was just... Not present.

When she put her hand on his shoulder that's when Tom snapped. He sprang to life and walked to the entrance of the classroom. He halted at the door as if lost in thought, to be honest, he was. His hazy brain only remembered half of what she said, but it was enough to give her a solid response. Tom turned around to look at his teacher. It was funny, the way she was looking at him. It was like staring at a painting. The background and lighting complimented her facial expression. Confusion. That would be the theme.

He smiled back at her with tired eyes "I'll be fine miss." It was odd to think about the relationship they had. She knew he was smart, said it many times. But she had told him that many of his actions were stupid. Not him in particular, just his actions.

It's hard to forgive her for the rumours she spread, accidental or not. The fact that she still sees Tom that way is irritating. As if she was only starring at 1 side of the canvas, and completely ignoring the other.

He left before she has a chance to comment. Tom didn't want to hear her opinion anyway.

Tom took his bag out of his locker without difficulty. He held onto the lock gently after clicking it shut. Staring at it as if the object knew the answer to a question Tom hadn't asked.

He sighed and let the lock fall against the red metal door.

_'Thunk'_

The noise echoed throughout the school hallways until Tom was out the doors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow decided to publish this instead of writing Chapter 9 to "Some secrets are better off hidden". Anyway, I had fun writing this so I hope yall enjoyed reading it.


End file.
